


Shatter Your Illusions of Love

by Telesilla



Series: Never Break the Chain [1]
Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Alien Biology, Baseball, Drug Use, Forced Bonding, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 05:36:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Okay, it looks like it's happening because you haven't bred yet and given your age, your body wants to find a breeder. Since it can't, your hormones are going a little crazy."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shatter Your Illusions of Love

**Author's Note:**

> For the "fuck or die" part of the trope meme. It turned into an actual fic that will probably turn into a series.

The thing about being an alien? The thing about being an alien is, to be honest, Hunter forgets about it sometimes. He's been in human form for most of his life, after all. He was raised by human parents and it's not like being Superman; Hunter has to make an effort--an uncomfortable effort--to change into his proper form. And since he can do anything and everything in human form, he can go for days at a time without thinking about being an alien, let alone looking like one. Also, his proper form tends to freak people out.

And then, during one of the best games of his professional life, Brandon Belt high fives him and pats him on the back after Hunter hits a grand slam. Normal stuff really; if Hunter were thinking about it, he'd be surprised Belt didn't smack him on the ass instead of the back.

But he's not thinking about it because he can't think about _anything_ but how good Belt smells. Well no, it's not actually a smell, or if it is, it's not something that a human would notice. To the average person Belt would smell like he normally does late in a game--like sweat, infield dirt, pine tar and bubble gum.

To Hunter he smells like...well it's like a dormant part of Hunter's brain has kicked in and has suddenly noticed that Brandon Belt smells like pure, high octane, sex.

Actually, that's exactly what's happened; a dormant part of Hunter's brain has kicked in. Thing is, he doesn't know what's happened and he's more than a little freaked out by it. All of a sudden, Belt's gone from being a teammate and buddy to someone Hunter wants to fuck into next season.

Make that someone Hunter _needs_ to fuck into next season.

He gets through the rest of the game somehow, probably because Boch takes him out in the bottom of the seventh. Even so, he's distracted and just barely manages to say the right things when he does the post-game radio thing with Kuip. It doesn't help that down at the other end of the dugout, he can see (sense? feel? smell?) Brandon in front of the cameras doing his own interview with Jon and Kruk.

Of course everyone wants to go out and celebrate like there isn't a getaway day game tomorrow. As soon as they get to the bar of choice, Hunter ducks out and calls...well, he doesn't like to refer to Miranda his handler, but she totally is. He supposes he should be grateful that the government found him foster parents instead of locking him away somewhere in Area 51, but it kind of sucks that there are people who know more about him than he does.

Never mind that it's somewhere around midnight, Miranda sounds as alert as she always does.

"Something happened," he says.

"Besides that grand slam and the seven RBIs? That was a fun game to watch."

"Fun to play too, but no, that's not what I'm calling about. I...." If Hunter could blush, he would. "All of a sudden I want to jump one of my teammates."

"Jump as in have sex with?"

"I'd hardly be calling you if I just wanted to get in a dogpile with him." Even as he says the words, he thinks about rubbing up against Belt the way he has done in past dogpiles and he has to catch his breath. "It's Belt, and I've never thought about him like that before."

"And you don't know what's going on?" Miranda pauses for a moment. "Hunter , you're...."

"Holy crap. I'm in heat." Because really, that's the only thing that makes sense.

"Well, I wouldn't put it that way, but...."

"I can't be," Hunter says, trying to fight down a sudden burst of panic. "Not with Belt. He's a teammate. He's a _dude_. Why would I want to mate with a dude?" Have sex with a dude, yes; Hunter's done that. But how could he possibly mate with a guy. Not that he knows anything about how his people reproduce, of course.

"This isn't about mating. Well, not directly. It's not about breeding. You'd need to be around someone in a breeding cycle to do that."

"And I'm not? In a...." Hunter can't even say it.

"No. You can't breed; you're sterile."

Hunter kind of wants to ask if he was born sterile or if that was something that was done to him before they let him go out into the world. But no, he'd really rather not know.

"Okay. But then why is this happening?"

"Hang on." There's silence for a few moments, during which, Hunter tries to calm down. There has to be a way out of this because it's getting worse. He knows where Brandon is right now and he would really like to go and find out who's plastered up against him and kick their ass.

"Okay, it looks like it's happening because you haven't bred yet and given your age, your body wants to find a breeder. Since it can't, your hormones are going a little crazy."

"Well," he snaps. "Thanks for the advance warning."

"I'm sorry." She sounds sincere, but then she always sounds sincere.

"Yeah, whatever." God, he hates how talking to her can turn him into a sulky teenager. Even his mom can't do that to him. "Just fix it."

"I...." She pauses. "Can you keep it under control? Because if not we can have someone come and give you something that'll imitate an illness. Something bad enough to put you on the DL until we can figure this out."

"Oh fuck no. I can't go on the DL right now. Not with this hot streak going on. Not when I've got a chance to go twenty-five and a hundred. Not when I'm trying to play every game this season." He takes a long, deep breath. "Not with my free agency contract on the line."

"Well then, can you keep it in your pants?"

"I think so?" Hunter wrinkles his nose. "Is...um, am I going to shift forms?"

"I don't know. I need to do more research."

"Where research is looking at my parents'--my real parents--computers? The ones I don't have access to?"

"Hunter...."

"No, I'm sorry. I know it's not you." He doesn't know that at all, but it's always helped if he imagines Miranda to be some kind of weird, kooky, grandmother who just happens to be with the government. "Look, I think I can keep my hands off Belt for the next day or so. You better have something--answers, drugs, whatever--by the time we get to New York tomorrow night, though."

"We'll do our best. Call me if things get worse."

"Yeah, I will. Thanks, Miranda."

"Take care."

Hunter grits his teeth and steps back into the bar. Tim immediately gloms onto him, giving him a sideways hug and pressing a beer into his hands. "Dude...." To Hunter's heightened senses he smells like shampoo and beer and wrongness. It's all Hunter can do not to flinch.

"Thanks," he says, relieved when Tim slaps him on the back and wanders off.

Hunter ditches the beer and starts drinking tonic and lime. He doesn't process alcohol the way humans do, but it does affect him some and the last thing he needs is to lose control. It's bad enough that he can feel Brandon with every inch of his skin. Bad enough that once he learns that it's Bum on one side and Crawford other side of Brandon in a booth bench meant for two, he wants to kick both their asses.

Bad enough that he knows when Brandon disappears with Timmy they're sparking up in the bathroom. Bad enough that weed just makes Brandon smell even better. Well no, at least that makes sense; Hunter loves the smell of dope even though it does less for him than booze does. He'd burn the stuff like incense if he could get away with it.

Later, he tells himself that everything would have been fine if he hadn't ended up sharing a cab with Bum--who's in the front--and Brandon and Kontos, who are squashed in the back with Hunter. "Has everyone on this whole fucking team been smoking?" he asks, because damn, it's the best smelling cab he's ever been in.

Kontos just giggles.

"Not Posey," Brandon says in the careful tones of someone who wants to sounds sober. "Or Cainer...or...um...some other guys. How about you, Bum?"

"Nah...makes me too paranoid."

"God, I wanna get Posey stoned some day," Kontos says with another giggle.

"Timmy's been trying since Buster first came up," Bum says. "Hasn't happened yet."

"I'm hungry." Brandon says. "Anyone wanna drive through a Taco Bell?"

"Keep going to the hotel," Hunter says to the cab driver. "Belt, you can get something from room service."

Somehow they make it to the hotel and even through the lobby without anyone embarrassing themselves too much. "Oh hey," Kontos says, squinting at his phone. "Party's moved to Zito's suite."

"Fuck it," Bum says. "I'm going to bed."

"You think they have food?" Brandon says.

"Yeah," Kontos says.

"Don't," Hunter says at the same time. "You'll feel like shit in the morning. You always feel like shit in the morning."

Apparently he's convinced Brandon because when they reach Brandon's floor, he gets out. Hunter, who's on the same floor, follows him. He tells himself he's just making sure Brandon gets safely to his room, but as soon as Brandon's got his door open, Hunter's pushing into the room after him.

"What's up?" Belt asks.

"Me," Pence says. He shoves Brandon up against the wall and oh yeah, this is what he wants.

"Dude, what the hell?"

"C'mon," Pence says, resting a hand on Brandon's hip. He can smell a faint change in Brandon's scent. "You wanna, don't you? I know you do."

"I...fuck...Pence, since when do you do dudes? Since when do you want me?"

"Since just now...since I smelled you." Hunter knows he's not making sense, but he doesn't care. "Gotta do this...." And why didn't Miranda warn him? Because he really doesn't have a choice now; he knows he _has_ to fuck Brandon and he has to do it _now_.

"Hey, okay okay...look," Brandon pauses and then giggles--a disturbing sound. "I'm...whoa...really kinda stoned. But I'm totally okay with the gay, you know? Done it before, so yeah, if you wanna...."

Hunter reaches down and rips Brandon's jeans open, destroying the zipper in the process. He's careful about his strength (and speed and dexterity and everything else) on the field, but right now, he can't remember why he needs to be careful. About anything.

"What the fuck! Pence...."

"Brandon?" Hunter pushes Brandon's jeans down and then makes quick work of his boxer briefs. "Shut up."

"Dude, stop. This is getting weird." Brandon reaches out and shoves Hunter. He's not holding back; normally the push would rock Hunter back on his heels at the very least. "What is with you? Cut it the fuck out."

Hunter takes a deep breath and then something inside him _twists_. "Brandon," he says as he breathes out. "Tell me you want this."

"No, I," Brandon begins. He frowns and sniffs a little. "What is that?" he asks. His his mouth falls open and he licks his lips. And holy fuck that's hot.

"Tell me," Hunter says.

"Oh fuck...yeah...whatever...fuck me...c'mon, Pence."

"Hunter," Hunter says and then he says it again, the right way this time.

"Huh?" Brandon gulps. "Hunter...what is going on here?" Hunter breathes at him again and Brandon's eyes go a little glassy. "Oh...oh yeah."

" _Gonna fuck you,_ " Hunter growls, but since he's speaking his own language now Brandon just looks confused. " _Tell me you want it...tell me you need me...tell me you want to be mine._ "

Brandon closes his eyes and leans back, his head thumping against the wall. "Dunno what you're saying," he says and then licks his fucking lips again. "Hunter...what's going...."

"Shhhhh," Hunter says. "C'mon." He's managing English again and when Brandon kind of sways in his direction, Hunter kisses him hard.

It's not like Hunter's never had Human sex before; he knows how to kiss someone. This is different though. For one thing, Hunter's senses are kicking into overdrive. Brandon tastes like weed and beer and, still, a little like bubble gum. Under it all, he tastes like...like everything Hunter's ever wanted. 

It's almost too much; Hunter feels like he's getting lost here. It's not just the way Brandon tastes or smells--although fuck, he smells fantastic. It's that Hunter can sense him in ways he doesn't even have words for. He's so focused on Brandon right now; there could be an earthquake and fucking hotel could shake to pieces around them and Hunter wouldn't even notice.

Brandon's moaning into Hunter's mouth and he's pressed up against Hunter's body and it's good, incredible, but it's not enough. Hunter wants more; he needs more and he needs it now. He kisses Brandon one more time, a hard biting kiss that makes Brandon gasp

Hunter pulls away and then bends down. Grabbing Brandon around the waist, he hoists him over his shoulder and carries him over to the bed.

"Hey," Brandon says as Hunter throws him down. "What're you doing?" His voice is slurred and he rubs the back of his neck.

"Getting you naked," Hunter says, pulling Brandon's boots off. He's feeling a little clumsy and fuck it, he's in too much of a hurry to deal with the rest of Brandon's clothes. He reaches down and shreds what's left of Brandon's jeans and shorts and then rips his t-shirt off.

Getting his own clothes off is almost as complicated and he's pretty sure he's destroyed his jeans by the time he's naked himself. And once he is naked, he feels strange, like he wants to shift into his natural form. He knows he can't; he won't be able to fuck Brandon if he does, but still, he can feel his real self crawling under his Human skin.

Hunter wants to just shove Brandon onto his knees and fuck him hard, but no he can't do that. There's something he has to do first, but he only remembers when he looks at the nightstand and sees a bottle of hotel lotion. It takes a minute to figure out why it's there and then Hunter grins. The thought of Brandon jacking off is really fucking hot. 

"Wanna see that someday," Hunter mutters as he slathers his fingers with lotion. His hands still hurt, but no, he can't change now. Later, he tells himself. Later when he needs to make it clear that Brandon's his.

"C'mon, baby, roll over," he says, forcing himself to speak English. 

"I dunno," Brandon mutters. "I don't think...I don't want...."

Hunter leans down and puts a hand on Brandon's chest and it's like he can somehow sense Brandon in that way that isn't taste or touch or smell. "Yeah, you do," he says, and he can feel it. He can feel the need in him like it's electricity, sparking from him to Brandon through his hand.

Brandon apparently feels it too and his eyes go wide. "Hunter," he says and now the need Hunter feels isn't his alone. "Want you...God, Hunter...."

"Roll over," Hunter says again. Brandon rolls and gets up on his knees and elbows without any prompting. 

When Hunter settles behind him, he runs his hand from Brandon's neck, up the curve of his spine to his ass. He's still sending that current through his hand and Brandon shudders and arches up into his touch. "Hunter...please...please...."

He rushes the prep and if it hurts, Brandon doesn't care; he pushes back against Hunter's fingers hard. That and the steady stream of hoarse begging--a devastating combination of "please" and "fuck me" and "Hunter" that Hunter can feel as well as hear--just makes Hunter want him more.

Finally, it gets to be too much. Hunter slicks up his cock, grabs Brandon's hips and shoves into him all at once. It should ease the tension a little, but it doesn't. Snarling out Brandon's name, Hunter starts fucking him hard and rough. It's....

It's fucking amazing. Brandon's loud under him, yelling into the pillow as he pushes back against each hard thrust. Hunter digs his fingers into Brandon's hips and just slams into him. If he felt overwhelmed by sensory input before now...now he's all but drowning in it. He leans down until his chest is against Brandon's back, his face buried in the back of Brandon's neck. 

Even as he keeps fucking Brandon as hard as he can, Hunter opens his mouth and presses it against Brandon's neck. Brandon's skin is slick with sweat and Hunter keeps licking him--taking in his taste and scent and the feel of him. Everything is Brandon now and finally, _finally_ , Hunter's getting what he needed. 

He fucks Brandon as hard as he can for what feels like forever. Brandon's still moving with him, still making those noises under him and then, when Hunter shifts a little, Brandon gets louder. A moment later, Hunter can sense it; something changes in Brandon's chemistry and he comes shouting Hunter's name.

Hunter can't help what happens next--the skin stretched across his knuckles feels like it's splitting. There's a moment of fiery pain that somehow makes the sex even better, and then his hands, his real hands, rest on Brandon's hips. He remembers just in time to reach down and grab the blankets instead. Then, as he shoves into Brandon one more time, his claws rip into the bedding and he comes with a high-pitched keen that sounds strange, even to his own ears.

When Hunter slumps down onto Brandon's back, Brandon makes an odd, contented noise and goes flat on the bed. Hunter follows him down and, for a long moment, they stay like that. Brandon still fills Hunter's senses, but he tastes and feels different now--familiar and comfortable and somehow right. Hunter licks Brandon's neck again--a couple of quick flicks of his tongue. 

" _Brandon,_ " he murmurs and while he doesn't know Brandon's name in his own language, he's saying it phonetically. " _Mine_ ," he adds.

And that reminds him. Brandon's not exactly his, not yet. Hunter rolls off him and carefully, pushes at Brandon's hip. Once Brandon's facing him, Hunter bites his own lip hard enough to bleed and then leans in and kisses Brandon. It's more bite than kiss really, and Hunter keeps it up until he can taste Brandon's blood, like iron on his tongue.

Brandon's eyes go wide and his pupils blur as he stares at Hunter in shock. "Mine now," Hunter says. He says it again in English and Brandon breathes out a soft "yes, yours" before his eyelids flutter and he falls onto his back, unconscious. 

A little worried, Hunter leans in and mouths at Brandon's neck. Brandon smells/tastes/feels just fine, so Hunter settles down next to him. Reaching up, he carefully rests his hand on Brandon's chest. The low light makes his chitin look more black than purple and his claws gleam a little as he scrapes them carefully down Brandon's chest. 

Hunter never knew he could change only a part of himself, but it feels right and he doesn't feel any need to change the rest of the way. His brain is humming more than usual--facts and feelings tumbling around in patterns he doesn't yet understand. He will though and he wonders what else he's going to learn about himself before things settle down. 

He does know one more new thing. Brandon might be his, but he's Brandon's as well. Neither of them can be without the other and Hunter can't help smiling. That's the way it should be, he thinks, running his claws down Brandon's chest again. 

" _Mine_ " he says in his own language and Brandon sighs a little and smiles in his sleep.


End file.
